


My hopes are so high that your kiss might kill me

by Krytella



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, PWP, Rimming, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-20
Updated: 2011-10-20
Packaged: 2017-10-24 19:54:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/267247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krytella/pseuds/Krytella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt from bottledminx: "I hope there's spanking. Can there be spanking?<br/>Maybe spanking until one of their asses is bright red and hot and then licking and kissing their way to a fantastic rim job? FOLLOWED BY SEX!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	My hopes are so high that your kiss might kill me

**Author's Note:**

> Written for cherrybina's "Ass Worship Fest," originally posted pre-beta here: http://cherrybina.livejournal.com/193693.html?thread=11951005#t11951005
> 
> Beta'd by bottledminx, who finds the hotness in everything and polishes it until all the stupid is gone.

"Totally unprofessional, Eames."

"You were the one who stuck your arse in my face."

"What, I was just supposed to leave the key where she dropped it? We kind of needed it, you know."

"I was sitting on the ground, Arthur. I could have picked it up."

Arthur had made the most delectable sound when Eames bit him, too.

"You got saliva on my pants."

"It was a dream. Your dream trousers."

"On my dream trousers, Mr. Can't-Resist-My-Ass."

"In my dreams, you are definitely not wearing trousers. And in my dreams, I get more than just a bite."

"Why don't you take what you want, then," Arthur challenges.

What Eames wants is to abuse that perky little arse until Arthur screams and begs and comes apart, until he can barely sit on it tomorrow.

"Hands on the wall. You're going to regret being a cocktease."

They both know that Arthur's not actually going to regret it one bit. He turns with a long suffering sigh and bends over, bracing himself on the edges of the window. His hotel room is on the 21st floor, with a great view, and best of all, no other buildings close enough to see in the windows.

Eames unbuckles Arthur's belt, unzips his trousers, and pulls everything down just below his arse. It stands out pale and round against the dark clothes that still cover up every other inch of skin. Eames can't help cupping it in his hand, squeezing one firm cheek and then the other.

"Come on," Arthur growls, impatient. Without warning, Eames pulls his hand away and lands a sharp smack on his right cheek. Arthur gasps, jerking away, and Eames grabs his hip to hold him steady.

"No running away. You earned this fair and square."

Eames spanks him thoroughly, coming down over and over until his hand stings and Arthur's arse is pink and hot to the touch and he's not twisting away any more but leaning into it.

"Arthur. Look at me." Eames grabs a fistful of hair and forces Arthur's head up, turning it so he can see his face. He's flushed and his eyes are dark, pupils large, and he's breathing hard. Perfect. Eames knows Arthur is in no state to say no to anything just now, but this is something they've agreed to and he's flying so high he can take a lot more. He pushes Arthur back down with a hand between his shoulder blades and switches sides so he can use his left hand. It pays to be nearly ambidextrous.

Eames hits harder now, angling his hand to get that perfect impact, that perfect sound. He alternates sides, moves up and down, getting the crease where arse and thighs meet and the curve of the underside where Arthur will be sitting tomorrow. When Arthur's skin blooms cherry-red, Eames can't resist squeezing again, grabbing the abused flesh roughly. Sweat is running down the small of Arthur's back and his arms are trembling from the strain of holding the position. This is one of the things that's fun about him, actually; he's strong, Eames can push him farther than he would have thought possible, and when he breaks bit by bit it's glorious.

He wants Arthur ready to collapse, unable to hold himself up. There are at least two paths of attack here, and luckily he can keep Arthur bending over while simultaneously doing distracting things to his ass. Distracting things require Arthur's trousers to be fully off, which he accomplishes quickly, Arthur pliant in his hands for a change.

Eames kicks Arthur's legs wide apart and drops to his knees. Arthur whines when he licks over smarting skin, twitches -gasps- when he bites. Eames is still fully dressed, untouched, but Arthur's there in front of him and he's _delicious_. He parts Arthur's cheeks with firm hands, digging in with his fingers to continue the thrill of pain. Licking, kissing, he narrows in on his destination.

He starts with a flat, relaxed tongue, enjoying the way Arthur arches into him at the touch, at the heat and wetness of it. He has to pull back for a moment and just look, breathe warm from the back of his throat over his skin while he watches Arthur's tight, wet, arsehole quiver in anticipation.

Eames is reasonably good at being patient when he needs to be, but right now what he needs is to shove the tip of his tongue in, flick it in and out, work Arthur wet and open and ready for him. He wets a finger and replaces his tongue with it (it's surprisingly difficult to get one's tongue very far up someone's arse), he licks around the spot where it meets Arthur's body, teasing his entrance where it's still tight around his finger. Arthur clenches and it feels like he's trying to suck him in, asking for more.

Eames slides in another finger and curls them both down, trying to draw out more desperate, choked off sounds. He loves it when Arthur's loud.

"Fuck, Eames."

That's it.

He pumps his fingers shallow but fast, never withdrawing very far, while he keeps licking around them, mouthing the swell of Arthur's arse, biting it to feel its firmness between his teeth. He bites hard enough to leave a bruise tomorrow, hard enough for Arthur to moan quietly in the back of his throat.

"You... have the dirtiest mouth. Ever," Arthur continues. Apparently he's regained some of his ability to speak.

"And you love it."

"Fuck you, too."

"No, I'm going to fuck you," Eames pauses from ravaging Arthur's arse to explain. "I'm going to play with you until you're begging for it, and then I'm going to fuck you until you come without me even touching your cock, until you're begging me to stop, until I'm satisfied and you're dripping wet and fucked out and can't even think to beg anymore, can't say anything."

"Filthy. Mouth."

Eames just reapplies himself to what's in front of him. He still has one hand free and can use it for more spanking. It's not a good angle for power but Arthur's worn out and oversensitized, and with every slap of Eames' hand he writhes around for a moment as if he's not sure if he should be trying to run away or to push back into Eames' fingers and tongue. Finally, he breaks enough for Eames to hear what he's been waiting for.

"Fuck me."

"Really?"

"Fuck me, split me open, I don't care, I just. Your cock. Please," Arthur's babbling. His whole body is shaking and Eames thinks he might actually fall over.

He pulls his fingers out and puts his hand on Arthur's shoulder, gently guiding him upright. No good letting him fall (as hot as the thought of Arthur exhausted and weak with arousal is). Arthur moves to the bed and gets down on his elbows and raises his arse in the air. Obedient. Or demanding. Eames doesn't think it matters much, since either way the result is that Arthur's getting thoroughly fucked.

"I like it when you beg," Eames starts, finally shucking trousers and pants before climbing on behind him. "Such a slut."

Arthur pushes back towards him at that, and Eames slides his fingers down Arthur's crack, already dripping from his efforts. "God, you're wet."

"And you... are a tease," Arthur pants out.

"I want to hear it again," says Eames, reaching for the lube, shuddering as he finally touches himself. "Tell me. Tell me what you need."

"I need your cock."

Heat curls inside Eames. He could never get tired of Arthur talking like this.

"Need my cock how?" He pushes for more, pressing himself against Arthur but not pushing in.

"In my ass. Jesus, just – please."

Eames wants to hold off even longer, but he's undone by the sight in front of him. Arthur's arse in the air, still burning red, legs spread, ready to take him in. He knows exactly what that arse is going to feel like, and he wants it.

He pushes in slowly, Arthur hissing and fisting his hands in the blanket.

"Eames, God, yeah..."

Eames is used to being the talkative one in bed, but Arthur gives him a run for his money, the slag. He pulls out a bare inch and shoves back in, hard enough that his hips slap against Arthur's sensitive arse. Arthur jerks against him.

"You going to remember your punishment this time?" Eames grunts out, setting up a rhythm against him.

"Maybe. Might... might have to... again."

Eames takes that as a challenge. He's brutal, pulling Arthur into him by the hips for maximum impact. He needs to hold out himself, can’t go _too_ fast, but with every slap against his arse Arthur's breath hitches and his hands scrabble for purchase in the sheets. He pulls all the way out, watching Arthur’s arse contract around him, greedy.

"Turn over," he pushes Arthur's hips. "Want to see your face when you come on my cock."

Arthur flops on his back, pulling up his knees, inviting. Eames surges back into him. Arthur's face is red, his hair sticking up, cock hard against his belly. Eames plans on being true to his word. He isn't going to touch it.

He can still see the edge of the flush on Arthur’s arse, still knows he’s overstimulating with every touch. Arthur’s biting his lip now, turning his head into his arm, giving off all his little tells that he’s close.

“You’re going to come for me. I don’t even have to touch your cock, do I?” Eames says again.

“Fuck, I can’t… please…”

Eames knows he can. He has once or twice before.

“I’m not going to stop. I can do this all night.”

The second one is a lie, but Eames has never claimed to be an honest man.

Eames frees one hand and brings it up to brush Arthur’s lips. He sucks it in, soft and hot, and this is not going to help Eames hold out any longer, so he pulls them away and trails his hand down Arthur’s chest, pinching one nipple, then the other. Arthur lifts his chest, reaching for more, so Eames grabs the left one and twists savagely.

“Oh fuck, Eames, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna…” Arthur’s nearly incoherent.

“Come for me, sweetheart.”

He does, sobbing a litany of nonsense syllables, cock pulsing and arse pulsing around Eames, who finally goes as fast as he wants, hips snapping rapidly until he’s coming into the delicious clench of Arthur’s arse.

Eames doesn’t let himself collapse on top of Arthur, as much as he’d like to. He holds himself up with trembling arms and enjoys the picture, Arthur relaxed, slack, flushed and sweaty. Eames trails a hand through the pool of come on Arthur’s belly, bringing it up to Arthur’s lips. Arthur licks his hand unquestioningly.

“Filthy,” it’s Eames who says it this time. “In future, you’d better behave.”

“Never.”


End file.
